


bangor

by selvish



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Found Family, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28618017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selvish/pseuds/selvish
Summary: eyes full of stars / hustling for the good lifenever thought I'd meet you hereit could be love / we could be the way forwardand I know I'll pay for it--George moves to Bangor, Maine for a fresh start after university. There's a local shop a few streets over from his new apartment with a friendly cat, a cheery hockey player, and a gentle giant who won't take off his cowboy hat.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 169
Kudos: 291





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! welcome to mainefic / bangorverse, a multichap i've been plotting. this has become basically all i think about, and im really excited to share! currently i have 3 chapters written, and i will be updating on thursdays.
> 
> follow my dream team twitter if ya like @_selvish , and subscribe to the fic in order to catch updates! i love comments, and if you enjoy the fic, please leave a kudos :)
> 
> please remember to ship privately: do not send this to ccs or reference it where they can see! it puts a lot of pressure on the authors & i don't want to become infamous since i'm so new to the fandom LMAO
> 
> thanks for reading !! enjoy <3

There are voices crawling up the stairs. No matter how loud the music in George’s headphones is, he can’t block it out.

It’s not even fighting anymore, barely even normal speaking level, but the words are sharp. Maybe he’s hallucinating, there’s no way he should be able to hear his parents talking downstairs when he has the door shut and white noise of heavy guitars blasting into his ears.

Six years ago he graduated from high school and got out. He spent a blissful and hazy 4 years in University to get a computer science degree that he now has hanging in his bedroom collecting dust. No one wants to hire him here because aside from a slight knack for coding and thousands of hours poured into video games, he isn’t particularly spectacular in any way.

He supposes that’s why these voices bother him so much. When he was in school and forcing himself into caffeine-drunk productivity every second of the day, his parents expectations were non-existent. It was a lackluster,

Just graduate.

Just get into a good school.

Just graduate. 

So he did. He graduated, and promptly hit a wall. That was two years ago now.

The stress started building last year; taking time to relax after so many years of working is perfectly acceptable. He spent weekdays doing quick contracted jobs for strangers and small online businesses for cash, and weeknights rotating through his contacts for some sort of recreational stimulus to get him out of the house. And it worked for a little bit.

As time went on, however, he felt his parents getting impatient with him. The questions began of

Where are you going?

Have you sent out any more applications, love?

You've been up all night playing those games…

Do you think you’ll move out soon?

You’re 24, George, don’t you want to do something better with your time?

Of course he did. He wanted nothing more than for something actually exciting to happen to him. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his days kicking around in his parents house 2 hours out in the suburbs of London.

It was difficult, though, because the times he had journeyed to the busy city he found himself suffocated by everyone around him. Everyone was on high rise skyscrapers and he was stuck on his tiptoes, desperate to stop straining and be comfortable for once.

He started selling things. Old clothes would be donated, but he had enough games, consoles, and computer parts to create quite the sum when mixed with the money he got from his coding work. He had the money, so he birthed the plan: a flight.

A one way ticket to the USA. Sure, it wasn’t the perfect place to be all of the time, but he couldn’t help feeling his eyes drift West over the Atlantic whenever he found himself gazing longingly at the world map above his bed.

The next step was simple, he stepped up onto his bed, feeling his socked foot sink into his plush mattress. He steadied himself against the wall and put a bright red marker square on London. Slowly he dragged the felt tip across the big, beautiful sea and landed it on the first city on the East Coast: Bangor, Maine.

His parents were beside themselves when they found out his plan. Not only getting his ass in gear in regards to a job search, but moving to another country? It was a sense of drive that George had been lacking. The fire blazing behind him as a child had seemed to fizzle out, but to both himself and those around him, a spark was waiting to be caught with this change.

They watched him pack with stars alongside the tears in their eyes, and helped him with apartment hunting when he poured over exchange rates and taxes that were so foreign to him. It went by so fast. In months, he had an apartment set up: fees paid and first month of rent free. In the middle of that tiny city he kept his eye on.

The one cog in the machine was the fact that he was still jobless. He sent out applications and scheduled video interviews, but he knew his charm wasn't nearly as evident outside of a real human connection. He had savings that could keep him above comfortable while he tried to find a job, but it would have been nice to be able to have that added sense of security before getting on a one way flight.

He was optimistic, though. George was the type of person that despite his occasionally temperamental demeanor, was fun to be around. He was kind once he warmed up, and so excitable it could get him into trouble. But this time would be different.

So he finished turning his room back into the blank canvas it was when his parents bought the house years ago. Finishing off selling his things and fitting his whole world into two suitcases, a few extra things being shipped separately by mail. There was one night where he stood in his room and took in the white walls. He crouched down and ran his fingers over the plush blue carpet, muttering to himself the stories of every stain and scuff.

Kept to himself was the fact that he was a nostalgic person deep down. He had a soft interior that clung to the fear that everything would crumble, and he wouldn’t have this room to come back to. His parents had been overheard planning to turn it into a home gym. It nagged at him that he was being replaced so soon, but he kept his gaze forward. He would be replaced, but still missed. It didn’t matter what happened to this room, he was going to have a new home that he could make his own.

The final day of the year drew closer. He breezed through the holidays and got choked up at his gifts: fancy yet functional home decor gift cards and help with travel expenses from his parents, a leopard print neck pillow in hot pink from his sister. He went to bed at 10pm on New Years Eve, barely stirring when choruses of cheers and fireworks drifted through his windows. New Years Day he woke up at 6am to catch his flight.

Surprisingly, the airport was bustling. He arrived two hours early and took his time getting through security, leaving an hour for breakfast while he sat at his gate.

George chewed thoughtfully on his croissant while eyeing the people around him. So many voices talking into telephones, parents calling their children, couples dozing on the seats. There were so many people, and maybe this would be the last time he saw this many people in one place, at least for a while. He took note of their expressions and accents, commiting to memory the sound of Londoners going through their morning just like him.

His boarding group was called, he got on the plane, he sat on the plane, he fell asleep, and he landed. He transferred gates, and did it again.

Then he was done.

Baggage claim was quiet, there weren’t many people on his last flight, and the Bangor airport was small. He smiled to himself as he watched everyone yawning into the iced coffees they drank while it was below freezing outside. There was so much he had to learn.

With a hiking pack on his back and a rolling suitcase behind him, he headed to arrivals. There were even less people here, but he felt his throat constrict as he watched lovers run into the arms of their other halfs, and children scream as their family met them and picked them into a spinning hug. There was no one waiting for him here, and for a moment the wanderlust he was tipsy on turned into an aching loneliness.

He had friends in London, a good number of them in fact. There was always someone to get a drink with, or to FaceTime while doing homework, but he couldn’t shake the fact that he knew those friendships would fade now that he was 6 hours in the past, a whole ocean away.

His head shook quickly, dismissing the feeling that wanted to overtake him. He needed to stay focused on what he was doing: changing his life, finding a new family, finding a reason to light his fire again. He kept walking.

Bangor was dusted with snow, but the sun shone brightly overhead. The sky around him was a grey-blue, and it reminded him so much of home. There were a line of taxis, and he hopped in the first open one he saw, reciting his new address and being on his way.

The driver was an older man with a baseball cap on, heavy accent that disregarded the letter R and dripped with sarcastic intonation. He was excited about the way George talked too, and they spoke idly of home.

“What do you like most about living here?” George asked patiently, after a silence had gone on for a little longer than he was comfortable with. The man smiled warmly for the first time, and their eyes met in the mirror.

“This town has the right mix of Southern Hospitality and liberal politics. People really are kind. They mean it. It’s easy to write off anything North of Portland as Hicksville, but this generation of kids is really pushing us in the right place.” He paused, for dramatic effect or just to choose his next words carefully. “You’re gonna love it, kid. It’ll be a change of pace for sure, but a good one. Just don’t let us old farts bring your spirits down.”

George smiled back, and looked out the window to the bright houses dotting the residential streets. Every once in a while there is what looks to be a small local business. Mom and Pop shops are commonplace it seems, people more inclined to buy from their neighbor than a chain.

It’s only 20 minutes into their drive when they arrive at a light green Victorian home with two front doors: 810 and 812. The car pulled to a slow stop and he wished his driver well before walking his things to the door of the house. There’s a porch and a mailbox that he’ll need to put his name on soon, but not today.

His key fits perfectly in the lock. He’d asked his landlord to mail it to him at his expense, and he’s grateful for that. After so many hours of strangers and travelling he’d much rather rest than make a good first impression to the person housing him.

The hardwood floors of the home are shiny and clean, and he goes straight to the bedroom on the second floor, up the staircase that greets him in the foyer. A Full size bed waits for him in the room, with a lamp and simple desk. It’s only when he sits down that he feels the weight of the move hit him. He’s here. He’s staying.

He lies down, and falls into a deep sleep in the middle of the day; jet lag has always hit him hard. He doesn’t dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George wakes up in America and goes on a late night shopping run.

Waking up at 11pm in a new, strange place, makes George’s first moments of consciousness extremely anxious. He sits up quickly as a confused grunt comes out of him, and he whips his head around the blank walls of his new room until the memories of the day before come back to him. Right. He was in America now.

The loneliness itches at him again, and he shakes it off with little difficulty. More than anything all he can think is how excited he is for everything to come. There’s a childish giggle building in his throat, and he lets it out only because he knows he’s alone.

He gets up and turns the lights on after peeking out the window to the sleepy street below. Most of the houses on his street still have Christmas lights up, and it’s a cozy enough scene that the last of his anxieties melt away.

His new home is fairly spacious, and he wanders from room to room testing light switches and faucets. Despite the garbage disposal scaring the shit out of him, everything seemed to be in working order, and he sends up a quick thank you to his guardian angel for not getting him stuck in some sketchy apartment. In his Uni days he had spent way too many evenings in frat houses and similarly horrific housing situations. He was trying to be a real adult now.

The landlord had agreed to make the place partially furnished for George in exchange of an extra fee, and he was more than satisfied with what had been left for him. Obviously the bed was comfortable enough to pass out for 10 hours in, and there was a nice blue couch in the living room alongside a coffee table and tall lamp. It definitely needed more, and a personal touch, but it was easier to see it becoming a home.

Back upstairs, George started to unpack his bags. He didn't bring much with him for the sake of easier travelling, so he had more than enough room leftover in his closet to stuff the two suitcases in. Changing, showering, and brushing his teeth made him feel more like a person as well.

It wasn't until almost 1am that he realized he was starving. He hadn’t eaten since he was on the plane, and he started dreading waiting until morning to have something. After finding a granola bar in his coat pocket and practically swallowing it whole, he remembered seeing a sign for a 24 hour mini-mart on his drive over. If he recalled correctly, it was on the main road close by.

Without checking the weather, he threw on a hoodie and headed out with his keys and wallet. It was late and cold, so no one else was outside.

The evening was breathtaking. His breath clouded in front of him, but the warmth of his bed still lingered in his bones. He started down the dimly lit street, with his phone leading the way. All around the houses were tall evergreens and sturdy maples. The lawns of each property were plush with crunchy snow that must have fallen while he slept, and he took a small detour to press his hand into one of the banks.

His fingers were turning red with the cold, but all he could feel was that excitement building inside of him again. He was drunk on it, and almost walked right past the mini-mart that lit up the block.

Inside was relatively sterile, with fluorescent lights hanging over him and teasing him with the possibility of a headache. The security guard and cashier chatted idly by the register, and he nodded to them when they looked him over boredly. Obviously, his smaller stature wasn't particularly threatening to the two of him.

He grabbed a basket by the door and went through each of the aisles, picking up the closest thing to what he would have gotten back in England. Some of the sugar levels that he read on the back of things made his head spin, and he made another mental note to start working out again to avoid developing a dad bod like he had in Freshman year.

“Your total is $27.89, sir.” The cashier said with a hand extended to take his cash. They had bright pink hair pulled up into a messy bun at the back of their head, and their face was tired, but kind. He was grateful his dad had him exchange cash at the bank before he left, because he wouldn't be getting his new debit card for a few days.

“I believe this is $30.”

The cashier nodded and gestured to the coin sorting machine next to the register where he could pick up his change. They placed the bills he needed into his hand and smiled tiredly down at him.

“You're new to the area, aren't you? You sound British.”

“I am, actually, I’m only out this late because I totally crashed with jet lag after landing this morning.” He replied with a nervous chuckle.

From the door, where the security guard had drifted back to her post, came a laugh. She was shorter than the cashier and George, but he could tell she wasn’t one to be messed with. Despite the time of evening her eyes were wide awake and ready for anything. “Y’know, I’ll give you a secret: there's a local bodega further down this street by the park. They have nicer stuff than us, more like what you’re used to than this sugary garbage. Not open 24/7, though.”

“C’mon, Rae, you're gonna make us lose all of our business if you talk up our competition like that.” The cashier replied playfully before George could.

“I’ll keep both places in mind for the future. Thank you two.” George said with a smile, and grabbed his things to return home.

“Have a good night, now!” Rae called after he exited, and he gave a small wave with his hand that wasn't taken by a bag. She waved back.

The walk home was quick, since he was eager to get back and start cooking. He walked in the door and kicked off his shoes. The clock over the stove read 2:17AM, and he promised himself that he would take a nap when the sun came up so he could try to get through the day and beat his jet lag.

Bacon and eggs sizzled on the stove alongside the music he played from his phone, and he hummed along. He moved to the living room when it was done and ate on the couch, switching his phone to YouTube.

It was easy to get lost in the domesticity of it. YouTube became a book he recovered from his suitcases, and soon he felt the tendrils of sunshine slipping into the room. According to his phone, it was almost 5am, and he was proud of himself for not having caffeine so he could take a short nap before exploring more of the outside world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii im impatient & posting this early! chapter 3 will probably be out soon too cuz i finished writing 4 today :) next chap has dream and sapnaps intros 👀
> 
> follow me on twitter if u want @_selvish , & subscribe/kudos/comment if u enjoyed :) thank u !!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George makes friends.

At 8AM, his phone buzzed aggressively next to his dozing head. He didn’t startle awake this time, having spent the past couple of hours drifting in and out of a somewhat restless sleep. He was never really a napper, definitely more one to overdose on coffee in order to stay conscious for ridiculous amounts of time. 8AM was a perfectly normal time to get up, he reasoned, so he did.

He was still pretty full from eating earlier in the morning, so he did the dishes he had left in the sink and changed again. Instead of a shower, he put on some deodorant he had brought from England. He would need to pick up another stick soon, so he added another mental note. It would probably be better if he started writing these things down.

Outside beckoned to him, the sun was steadily melting the snow that had fallen, and the world looked dewy and shiny. Like a dream. It was as if it was Christmas morning, or the first day of school.

George locked up the front door and started back towards the main road. He didn’t need his phone this time, though the neighborhood looked different in daylight. There were families sitting on their porches, children cheering each other on as they sprinted up and down the yard. The men perked up as he walked by, an unfamiliar face on their turf. George tried to smile and nod without looking like a weirdo.

Passing the mini-mart, he remembered what the security guard had mentioned last night. The bodega should be somewhere on this street, he was pretty curious to check it out.

It was only about 5 minutes of brisk walking to reach a brick colonial house with a longer driveway than the rest. There were garden plots on either side of the drive, meant to hold fruits and vegetables in the warmer months. At the front of the house was another porch, and the only thing that didn’t imply that this was someone’s home was the sign hanging above the door that simply read: BODEGA.

Slightly nervous for some reason, he padded up the dirt drive and stood at the base of the stairs that lead up to the porch. There was a cat curled up on one of the two rocking chairs. The door was covered by stickers; ones that said things like “LGBTQ SAFE SPACE”, “BLACK LIVES MATTER”, and “HEALTHCARE IS A RIGHT.” George smiled softly to himself, and let his eyes drift to the right where there was a big bay window. In that window was a sign that declared they were “OPEN.”

That seemed like fair enough evidence to cross the threshold, so he skipped up the stairs and opened the door, jumping slightly at the bell that jingled when he did so.

The inside of the bodega was impressive. It had obviously once been someone important’s home. Hardwood floors in a deep chestnut spread out over the store. Tables piled high with fruit, bread, and other fresh-looking food were vibrant and inviting. To his left were standing cold cases holding any kind of beverage and seafood he could imagine.

He was kind of stuck, unable to decide where to look first, when a voice came from the one side he hadn’t taken in yet: the cash register on the right.

“Good morning!” A chipper voice called out. George jumped again, but quickly relaxed and turned his head to see who was talking to him.

It was a young man, looking easily under 20. He had dusty brown hair and scruff around his jaw. His eyes were brown and as bright as the smile below them. George waved and walked a little closer, which was apparently the right move, because the kid came out from behind the counter and went to shake his hand. That was a little odd, but George returned the shake to be cordial.

“Good morning,” He responded, “Sorry for standing right in the doorway like an idiot, I just moved here and got kind of blown away for a second.” Was that embarrassing? It might be embarrassing.

Whether or not it was, though, the other just laughed jovially.

“Of course you’re new! You’re British! That’s pretty cool, I’ve never met someone British before, let alone here in Bangor. Are you doing a school thing? Or just a vacation?”

George felt himself curl in slightly, a little uncomfortable with being given this guy’s full attention. It was a lot to take in so early in the morning. He wondered if the kid was always this cheery.

“Y-yeah. I’m from London. I, uh, just moved here for a change of pace. I’ll be looking for a job at some point.” He paused, unsure of exactly what to say. “I’m George, by the way.”

“Interesting! This is kind of bumfuck nowhere, I’m surprised you chose here. To each their own I guess. I’m Nick, but everyone calls me Sapnap.”

“Nice to meet you.” George withheld a comment about Sapnap’s bizarre choice of nickname in response to the other being skeptical of his choice of place. “I was kind of looking for nowhere. Cities are stuffy.”

Sapnap nodded, and waved to the store in front of him. “Well, welcome to the bodega, dude. Feel free to peruse and ask any questions. I’m just waiting on my manager to show up.”

George returned the nod and turned back to the aisles in front of him. He drifted back to the other side of the store and peeked curiously at the freezers.

Behind the glass were piles of ice with fish placed neatly on top. They looked bright and practically still alive. It made sense that somewhere so close to the coast would have fresh fish, but it was fascinating to peer deep into the eyes of the creature.

Further down was a big block of an aquarium with some lobsters scuttling on the rock bed and beneath them. George withheld the urge to press his hand on the glass, and he found himself smiling slightly as one of them waved an antenna at him. He ignored the giant pot to the right of the aquarium, likely to cook these little guys to their doom. Not exactly the most wholesome thought.

As he was contemplating the existence of the sea bugs, a soft jingle from the door told him someone else had come into the store. He stood up straight and turned to look at the preserves and jams behind him, hopefully looking less like a child on a school field trip, entranced.

The cashier, Sapnap, had perked up on the other side of the store and called out to the figure who had entered. He was tall and thin, a tattered cowboy hat resting on his head.

“Dream! You’re late as hell, dude, where have you been?” Dream?

It was certainly a direct way of speaking to one’s manager.

“I bring you a breakfast sandwich and a coffee, and this is how you repay me?” The man responded, his voice sounded much younger than George expected, so he looked up to see him more clearly.

He was handsome, but young indeed. Closer to Sapnap’s age than George’s, and he had no facial hair; eyes that were bright green and full of light despite being veilled by the rim of his hat. Talk about entrancing.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Thanks for the breakfast run, I’m starving.” Sapnap was making eager grabby hands at the paper sack that rested against the other’s hip.

Dream walked towards his friend, and the cat from outside trailed lovestruck behind him. It mewled loud enough for George to hear it, and once Dream put down the sack of food on the counter, he leant down to scoop her up and scratch under her chin, cooing gently into her ear.

Apparently he didn’t notice George was in the store, and Sapnap had forgotten himself. So he stood like a deer in headlights, watching Dream be soft as cashmere with the cat. It made his heart squeeze an extra serving of blood to his cheeks, and he hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. Speaking of being noticed, he relaxed his posture and wandered into the farthest aisle, closer to the cash register. Dream and Sapnap looked up sharply, the latter smiling again and the former straightening his shoulders and putting the cat down.

“Who are you?” Dream asked rather bluntly, and George felt a slight thorn of rejection sting him.

“A customer? My name is George, I just moved here.”

“Are you gonna buy anything?”

“Not sure yet, I’m just kind of browsing, if that’s alright?” George felt himself flare up, a little more defensive. His shoulders straightened to match Dream’s, and he felt his eyebrow twitch. The other had plenty of inches on him, but George figured he could talk him down.

Sapnap reached across the counter over to shove at Dream’s arm, scoffing at his friend’s rudeness. “Dude chill out, George is cool. You’ve got a stick up your ass for no reason.”

Dream shook his head and chuckled lightly. He blinked and took a deep breath before responding. When he looked at George again, he looked kinder.

“Sorry, I got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Sapnap usually has two sandwiches, but he might be willing to part with one if you wanna eat with us?”

The quick change in behavior was slightly jarring, but George’s stomach growled lowly at the promise of free food. He let himself relax too and offered a smile, which made Dream light up even more.

“I’d love that, I haven’t eaten since my jetlagged arse made food at like, 2AM this morning.” He tacks on quickly, “As long as Sapnap doesn’t mind.”

The youngest nodded eagerly, “I think I’ll survive, and if I can’t I’ll just have something here.”

“Will you, now? You’ll pay for it and everything?” Dream teased.

“I think we can afford an employee write off. Especially since you’re pawning off my breakfast to a stranger without my consent.” Sapnap winked at George and shoved Dream again, who reached to shove back. The height difference gave him an advantage, and Sapnap almost stumbled into the shelf behind him as he giggled.

“No fighting in front of a customer! Don’t make me write a scathing Google Review.” George joked as he walked up to the counter and sat down on a stool that was placed on the side opposite from Sapnap. There was another stool on his right side, and Dream pulled it slightly away from him to sit down as well.

He unwrapped the food carefully and distributed it amongst the three, and all of them started eating in a peaceful quiet. Despite meeting these two merely minutes ago, there was a strange sense of connection between them. In another life, maybe, they had all been together. It was a nice thought.

“Oh, fuck.” George groaned as he bit into the sandwich and felt the runny egg yolk explode on him and drip down his chin. Sapnap quickly handed him a napkin and returned to eating, but Dream was just watching him silently. Intensely. “Sorry, I’m a mess sometimes.”

Dream blinks, and inside his mouth he runs his tongue over his teeth, “It’s cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i hope u guys enjoyed this chapter, pls kudos/comment/subscribe if u did 🖤 im really excited about where this story is going, im on ch5 personally and its rly cute ;;w;;
> 
> if ud like to watch me talk to myself, my twitter is @_selvish !


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George gets a job.

With no job and no friends, George doesn’t have much to do with his days yet. He stays in touch with people back home over Facebook and Discord, occasionally throwing a nice picture into the Instagram void to see people interact with him. It’s lonely.

More often than not, he’s thinking of the bodega. That morning he spent with the two boys eating breakfast and getting to know each other was something so comfortable and unexpected. However, he was well aware that they probably had friends, and him being a random customer bothering them all the time would be super weird. So he just sits in his house, goes for walks, reads more books than he’s ever read in his life, and applies for jobs.

Thankfully, his coding skills come in handy for remote work. He can browse the same forums he did in England and pick up contracted jobs that keep his wallet full and his hands busy. Slowly he uses up the gift cards from his parents to fill the rooms of his home with personal touches. There’s a picture of his family on a wooden bookshelf in the living room, and his kitchenware matches in the same calming blue as his couch.

He plays Minecraft with his online friends, and the excited voices in his headset via voice call let him shake off the nagging feeling that he’s by himself in a strange place, if only for a few hours. Then he hangs up, and wonders if he should get a cat.

There is a river that flows right through the center of Bangor, and he spends most of his time there. He’s too awkward to return to either of the shops he spent his first day at, so he buys groceries at the big supermarket where no one asks for his name. In the dead of night he thinks about how if he could just go back to them, maybe he wouldn't feel like this.

His whole life George has struggled not with opening up, but letting people stay. He’s fine to tell people whatever they want to hear, telling stories from his past in the initial meeting and taking whatever information they give him in return. The thing is that he never comes back. He never lets it grow into something else.

It is reminiscent of Uni in a way, how he’d talk to anyone at parties or in class. Get their number in his phone and never text them first, because he was sure he’d be a bother. He was so sure that they’d never want to see him again. He was so sure that he would somehow ruin it, so he never let it become something to ruin.

A car horn makes him jump, and his spiralling thoughts stop for just long enough for him to realize he’s been glaring at the same spot in the river for almost half an hour now. He probably looks strange to the pedestrians walking along the sidewalk, considering it’s still January and there was snow gathering on top of his sitting form.

So he gets up, brushes himself off, and walks back towards his neighborhood. He figures the people at the mini-mart wouldn’t be on shift in the middle of the day, so he heads further down the street to the bodega. The door is shut, and there’s no cat on the porch, but the sign says it’s open.

He pushes the door and walks in, this time expecting the jingle and not startling. Inside there are actually customers milling about, filing baskets with little treats and hovering over the counter next to the cash register that appears to have a few coffee machines behind it. They must have been covered up the last time he was here, because he would normally have noticed something like that. Back in school he had worked in a coffee shop briefly on campus, and it gave him an idea.

“George!” Comes a voice that snaps him out of his thoughts. He really needs to stop drifting off when he’s in public. It’s Sapnap, looking busy but excited to see him. “Where the hell have you been, dude? We had an epic bro moment and you just dipped.”

George’s shoulders rise up a little defensively, and he forces himself to hold eye contact despite feeling caught. “Yeah, sorry, I was busy with moving stuff for a bit.” That’s a lie.

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Anyway, I’m glad you’re here! Dream’s around back right now, avoiding his barista shift. We both hate trying to deal with these coffee machines.” Sapnap continues venting, his hands scanning products for a customer who seems bemused at being ignored. “They were his dad’s idea to bring in more people, but he failed to actually teach us how to use them, so they just kinda collect dust, y’know?”

“Really?” George asks, his idea seems to be a little more possible now. “I mean, let me know if I’m stepping on toes here, but I did some barista work back in England. I still don’t have a real job here, so if you need any help figuring out the machines I have free time.”

Sapnap looks excited, but he quickly finishes the transaction he’s working on before turning his full attention to the older man, “Fuck teaching us, why don’t you just work here? We could always use an extra hand, especially if you already know what you’re doing.

“Uh, isn’t that kind of fast? You… Don’t really know me.” George had pulled his hands out of his pockets and raised them defensively, feeling himself want to back away instinctively. “I could be like, a murderer or a thief or something.”

The younger laughs him off and reaches over to smack his hands down playfully.

“Dude, Dream’s dad bought this place essentially for shits and giggles. It’s something for us to do, not any kind of passion project. If you can take some of the heat off us even for a little bit, and in exchange just murder a few people, I think it’ll be okay.”

He’s caught off guard by the other’s lackadaisical attitude, and the trust the other seems to have in him is touching. Kind of terrifying, but also touching. He relaxes his posture and smirks as another customer comes up to the register and Sapnap starts to ring them out, “Shouldn’t you ask your  _ manager _ before bringing in a new hire?”

“He’ll figure it out.” Sapnap says with a wink, and beckons George behind the counter with a jerk of his chin. He obliges, and walks over to the two main coffee machines- it’s pretty basic, just an auto drip and an espresso machine. There’s also a grinder for beans, the beans, a fridge below likely with milk, ice, and a frother.

George flips the switches to turn them on and runs his fingers over the buttons, thankful that it seems to be a similar layout to the ones he’s used to. It makes sense, because any business buying machines like this need to follow an industry standard. He gets a little in his head again, and only looks up when a throat clears behind him.

“Sapnap, why is there someone behind the counter?” Dream asks, trying to sound stern but obviously holding back a smile. George’s brain unhelpfully points out that he has a slight lisp, and he thinks it’s cute. He pushes that thought as far away as he can.

“That’s no way to speak to our new barista.” Sapnap says without looking at either of them, giving an award winning smile to the customer as he hands him their change. He waves the next person over and immediately gets back to scanning, so Dream gives up and quirks an eyebrow at George for an explanation.

“I’ve made the horrible mistake of telling Sapnap I used to be a barista. He then made the even worse mistake of hiring me to be  _ your  _ barista.” Maybe his word choice wasn’t the best, because Dream stiffens and his face gets tight for a moment, before shaking it off and chuckling.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, then.”

There’s a lull in customers after Sapnap breezes through his current transaction, and both of the younger men crowd together to watch as George grabs cups from the clean stack and makes two simple lattes. They watch him like he’s some kind of wizard, and he would be shy if he wasn’t so proud of himself.

Sapnap and Dream each take a cup, and stare at the drinks like they’re not sure what to do. George makes a face and gestures for them to take a sip, which they go for eagerly.

“Dude!” Sapnap shouts, way more excited than he should be, before taking another sip. He puts the drink down and starts clapping, which just makes George want to sink into the floor.

“Alright, fine, you’re hired.” Dream says coyly, continuing with his drink and wearing a secret kind of smile that makes George’s heart go kind of funny.

“Thanks.” He says plainly, turning back to clean up the little mess he had made. Another customer comes in and the three break up to return to their tasks. George has a blush on the back of his neck, and he feels eyes on him as he tidies. When he looks up, though, Dream is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends! i hope u enjoy this chapter. im really happy with the one after this, so im kinda just posting this so i can post that one sooner LMAO. 
> 
> pls subscribe/kudos/comment if ya like! it really motivates me to keep writing.
> 
> also feel free to follow my dream team twitter where i gawk at fanart and talk to myself about fic @_selvish !!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George, Dream, and Sapnap go ice skating.

Life becomes more ordinary, after he’s hired at the bodega. He signs a shit ton of paperwork, talks on the phone briefly with Dream’s dad (which is where he tries to not be horrifically awkward). Soon he gets his first paycheck, as well as a health insurance card. It feels far too easy, but George is too happy to remember to be cautious.

He puts all of his eggs in one basket, it’s a horrible habit and he knows it. It’s hard not to trust the people he’s with, once they warm up to him more. Pretty much all of his time spent not sleeping or hanging out around the house is spent at the store. He gets into the groove of filling orders for customers, and when there’s a lull the boys sit out on the porch and have lunch.

They got him a wooden stool that matches their rocking chairs, insisting that it’s perfect for his smaller stature. George flares up, ever on the defensive, but Sapnap and Dream were laughing too hard at him to listen.

Despite being at the bodega so much, there are some things he needs to buy at the mini-mart. He pops in every once in a while for toothpaste, shampoo, etc. It’s probably obvious, but he pretends Rae and Techno (the pink haired cashier) don’t notice that he only comes in late at night to see them.

They’re good people, Techno a little cocky and reminiscent of Dream’s love for a challenge. Rae is slightly more soft spoken, but when she laughs it lights up the whole room. It’s nice to have a break from seeing Dream and Sapnap too much, too. George loves being around them, but his introverted habits always catch up to him.

Today is an off day. He’s cleaning the apartment top to bottom, because even though he’s been there almost two months now, he hasn’t properly cleaned it once. It’s hard work, he spends most of the day scrubbing on his hands and knees while cursing his past self.

While he cleans, he thinks of the first week of February. It was Indian Summer, a term the boys introduced him to: about a week and a half of balmy, warm weather in the dead of winter; just enough to trick you into an early spring. It was the first time he saw Dream in short sleeves. He’s drowning in the memory as he cleans, lamb-soft blonde hair over toned arms, a scar on his elbow that he yearns to trace.

During a stretch break there’s a knock on his door, and he goes to get it a little nervously. Sapnap is standing about a foot away when he opens the door, and there’s a wicked grin on his face before he even speaks, “George!”

“Hey, Sapnap, what’s going on?” He asks, ignoring the fact that he probably looks incredibly unkempt at the moment.

“I know you’re off today so it’s cool if you wanna be alone, but Dream and I are headed to the rink downtown. We figured you might want to join since you probably haven’t been there yet.”

George notices now that the other is wearing a sports jersey and joggers under his coat, not the usual more put together outfit he has for work. Over his shoulder is a bulky duffel bag, and there’s a hockey stick leaning against the railing of his porch. He puts the clues together, “Like an ice rink? I’ve never skated before. I guess I could watch though.”

“Yeah, right.” Sapnap scoffs and rolls his eyes, still grinning. “As if we’d let you slack off. You’re learning, dude.”

He stiffens slightly, not one to look out of place in a group. However, it’s likely the two won’t let him say no, so he rolls his eyes back and takes a step back into his house.

“Let me change, I’ll be back in 5 minutes.”

“Cool! Dream’s driving. Just come out when you’re ready.”

George pretends that Sapnap doesn’t notice his posture change, just barely quirking his head to look at the truck parked on the street. He can see the hat more than any of Dream’s features. He turns and shuts the door kind of awkwardly, cursing himself for being so obvious. He jogs up the stairs and trades the raglan and sweatpants for jeans and a hoodie, the red one he can’t see but people tell him looks nice on him.

Back downstairs, he gets his keys and locks up. He’s not entirely sure what he needs in order to ice skate, but he takes his wallet and his coat as bare minimum.

Sapnap is waving from the passenger seat, as if he could miss the only car parked on the street. He chuckles and hops in the backseat, squeezing between the bags packed in there.

“You guys really need to realize 5’9” is not that short. My legs are gonna be cramping if this ride is any more than 20 minutes.”

“Thank god it’s only 15, then.” Dream says boredly from the front seat, putting the car in drive and smirking at him through the rearview mirror. George rolls his eyes again and kicks the back of his chair.

The rink is big, and rather intimidating. It’s an entire arena in the middle of town, and he can see a good number of people milling about outside. On the inside, though, there’s only a couple workers going to and from the stands and change room. A lone zamboni glides over the ice.

“Is it just us?” George asks curiously.

“Yeah, we reserved a time slot so you wouldn’t get too bashful when you spend the next hour repeatedly falling on your ass.” Sapnap casually responds. The once overly friendly kid has turned out to be quite the spitfire, and sometimes George wants to give him a noogie.

Thankfully Dream gives him a shove for him, and they walk the way to the change rooms in comfortable silence. The younger two get changed in the locker room, and George is instructed to get skates from the rental desk.

“Don’t get too distracted comparing your dicks and playing with towels, boys.” George teases as he walks away, relishing in the “WHAT?!” Dream lets out while Sapnap drags him away.

It’s fun, teasing the boys like that. There’s always the chance that when they find out that he’s gay the jokes will have to be toned down, but for now he can have his fun.

The woman giving out rentals is very patient with him, because he realizes once he arrives that he has no idea not only what his American shoe size is, but how that transfers to ice skates. They figure it out, though, and as he sits down with the skates to the side of him, Dream and Sapnap come clunking out with their skates on.

“Aren’t you gonna put them on?” Sapnap asks, as if George has any idea what he’s doing.

“No, I was waiting for my teacher to instruct me how.”

Dream wheezes lightly, and gets down on one knee before Sapnap has the chance. He instructs George to at least place the skates on his feet, and he’ll tie them up. It’s simple enough, but George is slightly transfixed watching the other’s calloused hands tighten and tie the laces up for him.

“Is it supposed to feel like my life is being squeezed out from my feet?”

“Yes.”

Sapnap is watching too, looking more calculating than usual. It worries George a little bit, and he spends the minute his skates are being tied overthinking his and Dream’s interactions, wondering if his crush is obvious.

Is it even a crush at this point? It’s nearing infatuation territory, though it still feels so curious. He just wants to know more, there’s a need in him that aches to learn more about Dream. The man himself reads as charismatic and open, but there’s a wall that seems up only for George. It’s infuriating. Is he really that much of a turn off? If he is, why do him and Dream have these moments? The acts of service, the smiles, obvious evidence of love languages making his head spin. He feels lost.

“Alright, you’re up Georgie.” Dream says, slapping the eldest’s calf muscle and making him jump about a food. Dream laughs, but Sapnap still looks like he’s thinking.

George stands unsteadily, trying to keep his balance on the thin blades. Sapnap has finally snapped out of whatever stupor he was in, and he practically does a running jump through the swinging door to the rink onto the ice. Very impressive.

“Show off.” George grumbles, and Dream winks at him.

He walks over to the door, Dream close behind, and slowly walks onto the ice. It’s slippery, obviously, but not horrible. The blonde behind him glides on effortlessly, and immediately chases after Sapnap, who’s doing laps while smiling like an idiot. They look free like this, all of the walls and unsure thoughts George imprints onto them seem to fade off as the two race back and forth, occasionally doing a sliding stop to have ice shavings fly up like a tidal wave.

“You two are children.” George giggles out, slowly skating along the edge of the rink with one hand always hovering over the side. He’s watching them eagerly, though, so entranced by how beautiful Dream looks like this; his nose and cheeks cherry red, and a wonderful, loopy smile permanently glued to his face.

Sapnap and Dream eye each other, slowing to a stop halfway across the ice. George feels anxiety rise inside him as they both suddenly bolt right towards him, and he screams as he feels arms grab at him, pulling him to the middle, a castaway.

“I swear to God, if I get hurt-”

“We won’t let you.” Sapnap says, sincere for a moment. It’s lost on George almost instantly, because both boys grab his hands and start skating him around the rink faster than he’s ever gone. He’s drunk with excitement, laughs bubbling out of him uncontrollably as he tries to keep his knees bent. He would be more scared, but with both hands trapped in a strong grip he can only feel glee.

He turns to the left, seeing Sapnap looking forward with confidence and determination. To his right, Dream is watching him with rapt attention, and he only looks forward when he’s caught staring. He breathes out of his nose and George watches, his laughs petering out into a gulp.

They skate around more times than George can count, eventually he’s left on his own to maintain his balance, and he’s proud of himself when he only falls twice. Both times, Dream is right there to pull him back up wordlessly. Sapnap switches from laps to sprints, going back and forth as fast as he can to work out his legs. They’re all panting soon enough, noses dripping and sweat forming at the temples.

“I give up!” George calls out, gracelessly sitting down on the ice and lying on his back about 10 feet from the edge. Sapnap shouts a laugh to him, before skating towards him and doing tight circles around his body. Dream lingers a little further off, breathing hard but smiling.

“You wanna head back?” Dream asks.

“I want a hot chocolate.” George replies, crossing his arms over his chest while he lets the ice slowly freeze his head.

“Of course, Princess.”

It shouldn’t be awkward, because it’s so obviously a joke, but all of them pause anyway. George looks up at the ceiling, Sapnap stops circling, and Dream stares blankly at his feet for a torturous 5 seconds. Finally, Sapnap whistles and starts towards the door, “Alright! Let’s head out then!”

Dream helps him to his feet, pointedly not looking at him, and they glide to the door without touching anymore. They change out of their skates and leave the rink behind, slowly easing back into a comfortable atmosphere.

“Do you really want hot chocolate?” Sapnap asks genuinely from the passenger seat of the truck.

“I mean I think I’ll survive without it, I just figured it would be picturesque, you know? There’s not much winter left.”

“Aww,” Dream teases from the driver’s seat, and bangs the most horrific U-turn George has ever experienced. “He thinks winter’s almost over.”

“Well, it’s March, right?”

“Winter goes practically through April, here, Georgie. Then we plow headfirst into summer.” Sapnap tells him without looking back. They pull into the Starbucks drive thru at a much more reasonable speed.

George hums, staying quiet while Dream orders their drinks then passes them back. He takes a sip and hums again, getting an eye roll from Sapnap. “Are you satisfied, now?”

“Quite.” George says, his lips pressed against the lid of his hot chocolate. Dream is smiling dumbly at the road, and he isn’t sure why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! my beta said this is his fave chapter so far, i hope u guys agree :3 i had so much fun writing it.
> 
> please subscribe/kudos/comment if u enjoy!
> 
> & watch me talk to myself on twitter if u want, @_selvish :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George figures it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note added tags :) they're mostly for future chapters, but i wanna make sure everyone knows theyre there!

"Problems are just problems." 

When George hit his teen years, it quickly became evident that his brain was far more suited to reasoning out mathematics, and less dealing with so-called human emotions. In the darker days, George sometimes wondered if he was human at all. 

He pushed people away. He didn't dance with anyone at prom, didn't get a first kiss until early adulthood, and didn't even consider relationships until he was in Uni. His brain was hardwired for numbers, and not much else. So as he sat at the dinner table, waist deep in spring break of Sophomore year crying silently into his arms, his father placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"They're just problems, George. You're good at solving problems. Make it something you know, and solve it." 

Years later he is sitting at the desk in his bedroom with one hell of a problem: Dream. 

It's been almost a week since the ice rink, and when he thinks about it hard enough (which is all the time) he still feels his hands tingling. He hadn't held hands with someone in years, had never even considered it. Yet with two men he met this year, he felt more relaxed and held than he had in... Forever, maybe. 

He writes it down. Starting with a scrap of paper he had, then onto an old reciept, eventually he gives up and grabs a half-filled composition book in the bottom drawer. His hands cramp from how fast he's scrawling out on the paper, his brain buzzing with green eyes and lingering touches. He tries to remember every look Dream ever gave him, trying to make it make sense. All he can compute is that it's something like love. 

A blister is forming on the edge of his palm, and he drops his pen to the ground like it's burning. He massages the injury gently, treasuring the feeling of a consoling hand, he wants more. 

That's it, right? He wants more, all he needs to do is ask for it. It's a 50/50 shot, maybe even better than that. Either he gets rejected or he doesn't. Easy. Why is it terrifying? Why does he feel sweat form on the back of his neck, which is hot to the touch? Why does his stomach feel like it's sinking into his shoes at the idea of Dream telling him his proposed answer is wrong? 

Well, he can't wait. His fire came back weeks ago, and it's singed his hair in anticipation. It's almost 9PM, the bodega is closed, but he knows Dream and Sapnap live on the second floor. They should be home. 

He throws on shoes and forgoes a heavy coat. A sweatshirt is warm enough, and at the last second he grabs a hat as well. He just holds it, knowing his brain is seconds away from cooking itself with the heat inside of him, a hat might make it explode. 

The walk goes by quickly, he's so deep in his head he barely notices anyone walking by him; blind to the cars driving by and almost grazing him when he haphazardly jaywalks across the streets. George stands at the end of the dirt drive and looks at the colonial that waits for him. He's frozen, because he can hear soft guitar floating towards him alongside two complimentary voices. Out of breath, he turns his head and listens: 

_ "But you say the sun don't shine for you / I hope you learn that that's not true, in time / When you're gone again / Just as long again."  _

There's a laugh in the distance, it sounds like Sapnap's. 

_ "I can't read your mind though I'm trying all the time, oh / There's something I don't know, I can see it in your eyes, oh / As the night ascends, all will slow again, oh / But I am left in awe of the woman I adore, oh..." _

The last chorus repeats then fades, and he can hear clapping and cheering from one person, the other still playing guitar. He starts walking down the drive with the sinking feeling overtaking him. What perfect timing to assert one's heterosexuality.

Soft is the word George’s mind chooses for the porch scene. Sapnap and Dream are in their rocking chairs going back and forth as Dream holds an acoustic guitar in his lap. They look up curiously to him as he walks towards them in the dark night. He stands at the base of the stairs and looks back.

“Late night George!” Sapnap shouts, continuing his clapping and whooping. Dream doesn’t say anything, but he’s smiling at him like he’s excited he’s here. His eyes are hidden in the shadow cast by his hat, but George has seen them enough times to know they’re sparkling.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” George asks teasingly as if his heart hasn’t vacated the premises. Dream looks at his wrist, which has never had a watch on it, and turns to Sapnap with a faux serious expression.

“It’s certainly past  _ someone’s  _ bedtime. If I remember correctly you’ve been complaining about how tired you are since noon.”

Sapnap reaches over to smack Dream’s head, and the older boy keeps one hand clamped on his hat so it doesn’t fall off. “Alright, alright, I know when I’m no longer wanted.” George doesn’t know what that means. “I’m heading up. ‘Night, George. Dream.” He gets up and pretends that his joints are creaking, as if he’s not the youngest of all of them. Then he’s in the house, out of sight.

George is still standing on the drive, and Dream beckons him up the stairs. He nods to George’s stool, and George takes Sapnap’s chair while pointedly ignoring Dream’s scandalized whisper of “ _ blasphemy! _ ”

They sit in silence, and eventually Dream starts picking at the guitar strings idly. He’s not looking at his hands, though, him and George have been in a deadlock staredown for almost two breathless minutes.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” George finally says, feeling his shoulders sag as he lets out a deep sigh. Dream takes the hint and looks away, still wordlessly plucking out a song that sounds sad.

“Can I teach you a song?” He asks, and George looks at him confused.

“I’m not really musically inclined, if I’m being honest.”

“It’s easy.”

He stands up, and reaches over to place the guitar in George’s unsteady hands. While the brunette tries to feel it out, Dream walks behind him and crowds in, brushing away the nervous fingers that lay limp on the frets, and instructs him to strum. It takes a moment for them to find a rhythm, Dream moving his fingers with practiced ease and George trying to strum in time, but eventually the sad song returns.

It is easy. It’s easy being held by Dream, even though in this situation with anyone else he’d have recoiled into himself by now. He let’s Dream’s breath ghost on his shoulder and uses his limited brain function to keep strumming. Any anxiety about someone he may or may not be in love with caressing him like this is to be dealt with at a later date.

“ _ Georgia, Georgia, I love your son / And when he gets older, he might be the one / He might be the one… _ /  _ Georgia, Georgia, he has beautiful bones / And he never lies or picks up his phone _ ”

Dream is singing so softly, right into his ear. He inhales sharply at the words, but continues strumming carefully. The moment they’re in is as fragile as glass, he refuses to let himself let it crack.

“ _ And sometimes in the pouring rain / He'll fall in the mud and get back up again… / And if you find me, will you know me? / Will you take me, or will you fall? _ ”

George closes his eyes, wishing he had sat on the stool so he could lean his back into Dream. He wishes he could dissolve into thin air and be breathed in.

The song is still going, but he’s not listening anymore. It’s all clear, the problem is solved, but he knows they’re not ready for the answer. For now, this is all he can have, and he takes every second of it and stores it in the void left by his heart falling out; it’s forgotten on the drive and he’s never going back for it.

Slowly, like he feels the glass too, Dream releases him, and sits back down to take his guitar. George opens his eyes and leans back in the chair, just watching him continue to play. He doesn’t look up again, but George doesn’t mind, because he gets it.

Eventually he’ll have to make the cold trek home by himself, feeling the icy breeze take over the cozy haze he’s in now. It’s alright, though, because that’s lightyears away. The night is young and so full, it’s mesmerizing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helllooooo. im sorry my chapters are so short, i just like dividing things up by smaller scenes i guess. i like this one a lot, i hope u guys like it too!
> 
> reminder to subscribe/kudos/comment if u like it! it really motivates me to keep writing.
> 
> feel free to follow me on twitter, @_selvish :3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George, Dream, and Sapnap go camping. (part 1)

Sapnap's RAV4 proves to be much more comfortable than Dream's truck. This time he actually has a real seat, despite being stuck in the back again. It became the new normal for George to spend one day of his weekend alone, then have one of the two others appear at his door the next day. 

He is relatively introverted, but he always has such a nice time he doesn't mind the constant interaction. Perhaps it’s still the honeymoon phase, though they've finally started to dip their toes into spring. 

It's April, and almost every day of the month so far has been freezing rain. A little hail fell last week, and George wasn't sure he was gonna make it out alive. The weather subsided, though, and the forecast promised a few nice days coming up. 

So naturally, Dream came up to him on the last day of his work week with a question: 

"Have you ever been camping?" 

"I have not." George says casually, running a damp cloth over the milk frother and running it once to clean out the inside. Dream follows the movement while he seems to debate how to respond. 

"Are you aware you're only an hour away from a National Park?" He tilts his head to look at George and leans onto his elbows, balanced sturdily on the counter between them. 

"I was not." 

Dream is smiling at him, the one that begs George to go easy on him, as if he could ever let that happen. 

"Would you like to go camping with me and Sapnap?" The blonde finally asks, and George turns around to smirk at him. 

"Can you say please?" 

"Please." He's laughing as he says it, so utterly done with this conversation, but staying anyway. George feels lit up from the inside, the same way he always does when he makes Dream laugh. It's distracting. 

"I would love to go camping, as long as I don't get eaten by a moose or something." 

"Ah, yes, of course you've read about the Man-Eating Moose of Maine before you moved out here. I was hoping I could use you as bait." Dream says easily, sliding back into standing tall. 

Sapnap comes around the corner, then, and quirks an eyebrow at the two. 

"You ask him to come with us?" 

Dream nods, his smile calming to a straight face, his shoulders tense a little as well. George and Sapnap pretend they don't notice. 

"Cool. We're gonna go for two days and one night, so we'll just keep the bodega closed." Sapnap explains to George, automatically knowing he was going to ask about the store. The oldest shrugs in agreement and goes back to work, silently planning what he'll need to pack for the short trip. 

It ended up being pretty straightforward. Two pairs of clothes, a bathing suit, and toiletries. Pretty much all of the actual camping gear was covered by Dream and Sapnap, so he just sent over some gas and food money to be courteous. 

And here they are, on the road to Acadia as the sun beams down on them for the first time in days. It's dangerously beautiful out, so George spends most of the ride with his eyes closed and his feet out the window. Twice now he's caught Dream observing him in the side mirror, but he doesn't say anything. Too afraid to break the spell.

The car cruises easily through the more rural area, and George almost falls asleep a few times. Soon they approach Bar Harbor, and Dream taps one of his legs from the front seat so he opens his eyes. He looks around curiously, and smiles as he takes in the quaint but bustling town.

Sapnap seems to be keeping close to roads by the piers, “Pretty cool, huh?”

It’s quite the understatement, George feels slightly overwhelmed with the sight of all the brightly coloured houses and small businesses. He brings his feet into the car to sit up straight, and looks out the window excitedly. There are men pulling up to the piers with boats full of bright nets, and a handful of people eating at restaurants that overlook the water.

“Definitely cool.” He responds, for the third time meeting Dream’s gaze in the mirror. This time he doesn’t look as caught, just smiles wider at him. Sapnap is looking at him from the rearview, and George looks up to grin at him too.

Even though George would love to explore the area, Sapnap tells him most places are still closed for the off season, so he makes both of them promise to bring him back in June. They agree, and the rest of the ride is pleasantly quiet. 

There’s an entrance to the park that Sapnap drives up to, and he reads a rather unintelligible sign (to George’s eyes at least), and continues on. The car continues onto a road that goes through the trees, and then they’re swallowed by woods.

Tall trees border the road they take, and George’s breath catches as he can peek through them further up and see cliffs and beaches. He didn’t realize how high up they’d be driving, and he can feel anxiety start to build up in his chest. Sapnap must pick up on it, because he speaks up.

“We’re almost at the site we stop at, it’ll be lower to the ground.”

George nods, then remembers the other isn’t looking at him. “As long as you don’t suddenly veer off into the ocean…”

“Sap’s been here even more than I have. He’s got it.” Dream says confidently from the passenger seat, and goes to pat Sapnap’s knee. He’s swatted away, though, and laughs.

Eventually they arrive at a small parking circle. There are picnic tables that look waterlogged and forgotten. This is apparently the first weekend the park has been fully open, so it makes sense that this spot seemingly hasn’t been touched in a while.

Dream pitches the tent, shooing away anyone that tries to help him. Once it’s complete, he stares at it angrily.

“Something wrong?” George asks, looking up from where he’s been piling sticks into the campfire site.

“I grabbed the wrong tent, this one only fits two. Usually Sapnap and I share it, but we have a four person one that would have fit the three of us better.” He exhales in frustration, and Sapnap wanders over.

“I can sleep in my car, I don’t mind a little neck pain in the morning. You two should take the tent.”

This doesn’t seem to make Dream feel any better, he just pinches his mouth to the side and takes another deep breath.

“I’ll sleep wherever.” George speaks up, looking pointedly at Sapnap and not Dream. The last thing he needs is whatever crisis Dream is going through souring their nice little trip. “If you’d rather, I can just sleep in the car?”

Dream smacks himself in the face lightly once, and chuckles. “Sapnap can have his car, it’ll be fine.

George isn’t sure if he believes him, but nods anyway. Sapnap is looking out to the water, his expression unreadable.

“Now what?” George asks, smiling slightly and throwing a twig at Sapnap to lift the mood.

“Come on, I’ll show you the beach while Dream gets the rest of the site set up.”

Slightly surprised at the youngest wanting to spend time with him, he follows after Sapnap silently. They spend about 20 minutes traversing through some of the woods and down the least steep cliff. He manages to land upright on the soft sand of a tiny cove, and Sapnap heaves a deep and content sigh that blends into the sound of the waves.

Wordlessly, Sapnap starts taking his shoes and socks off, then rolling up his pant legs. While it may be warmer than usual, it’s still barely above 50, and George eyes him judgingly before taking off his shoes as well. Once they’re both barefoot, Sapnap winks and sprints towards the water.

They wade up to their mid-shin, and the water is horrifically cold. George feels a chill race up his spine and his shoulders shake with the shock of it. He cries out once he reaches the deepest he dares to go, and holds his arms close to his chest.

“Why are we doing this?!” He asks incredulously, hopping from foot to foot and feeling his lips turn purple. Sapnap looks similar, and he’s delayed in noticing the other come up to him and give him a firm shove. He screams and barely manages to not topple into the water, shaking with laughter and chills. “You’re mad if you think I’ll let you push me into this death trap.” George runs over and tries to shove him as well, but Sapnap is too sturdy.

After one more playful shove, Sapnap takes a step back and levels George with that calculating look that’s been cropping up more and more often. It’s like the youngest can see right through him sometimes, like he’s the only one who can see through his walls. Maybe this is why they don’t hang out too much one on one. It makes George have to look away, to the islands miles out at sea.

Dream doesn’t seem to be the best with emotions, choosing instead to tease until he can retract. Him and George are similar like that: put yourself out there until it gets real, then push away. Sapnap is different. He’s smarter than he lets on, slowly taking in information and coming to a conclusion before the other two even know what’s going on with themselves. It’s intimidating.

“What do you think of Dream?” He asks simply, letting the meaning behind his words stay as abstract as possible; not letting George get scared and run.

“I… Think he’s kind. Frustrating, and very stuck in his head, but I know he’s good. He just has to figure it out himself I guess.” He’s not sure if his words make any sense, but since Sapnap knows Dream better than he does, it seems to translate.

“Dream is complicated.” Sapnap says rather bluntly, looking away from George to admire the distant islands as well. He has one hand dipping into the freezing water, and the tips of his fingers are turning red. Both of them have numb toes and are still shivering, but they stay in the water. Talking feels less real in this tiny cove.

“I think I like that.”

Sapnap bites on his lip and nods, squinting at the horizon. “That’s how he draws you in. It’s when he gets comfortable where it gets messy.” He pauses, thinking hard about what he’s saying. “You know that hat he wears? It’s mine.”

There’s a loaded silence, and George considers what he’s said. He looks back to Sapnap, who meets his gaze, begging him to understand what he’s saying. “You gave it to him?”

“No, I… My dad gave it to me when we moved up here so I could remember Texas, could remember that I’m always gonna be a kid from the South. I kinda played into the outcast cowboy role when I was younger.” He laughs, but it doesn’t feel like he thinks it’s funny. “I guess when I got up here with Dream, I didn’t feel like an outcast anymore. He makes you feel… Found, in a way. So it was just collecting dust. One day Dream came into my room after he had a messy break up with a girl he was seeing. He didn’t say anything, wouldn’t tell me why they split, just put the hat on and walked out of my room. I guess that was his way of telling me it was his turn to be the outcast. That found feeling started to lessen, like I was losing him to something huge. And he just, wouldn’t tell me.”

George steps a little closer, and reaches out to settle two fingers on Sapnap’s wrist. He nods at him to continue.

“Dream was always larger than life. He was my older brother outside of blood, my protector. He could do anything and I admired him so much. He helped me find who I was out here, when I felt like I had left everything back in Texas. The past year or so… He’s closed up. He doesn’t talk to me like he used to. He’s hiding something and he won’t let me see, it’s something not for my eyes.” There are tears building in his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. He just grabs onto George’s hand and looks at him with a sad smile. “But you… I get the feeling he’d let you see it. It hurts, obviously, that it can’t be me, but I think you’re good for him.”

“Nick, I’m not gonna replace you if that’s what you’re thinking-”

“No! No, it’s not like that. I’m not that dramatic.” He takes a shaky breath and looks down at the stirring water surrounding them. “I guess I’m… giving you permission. I want you to find him for me, George. I want you to bring my brother back.”

There’s a blood rush raging in George’s ears, and he feels weight added to his shoulders. It doesn’t feel like a burden though, it’s something he wants to take. If he can repay these two lost boys and do something to make them happier, of course he would take it on.

“I can’t promise anything, Sapnap, but know that I’ll try.” He swallows. “And if I fuck up everything and we lose him, we’ll still have each other.”

Sapnap lifts their clutched hands and presses where their fingers are entwined to his forehead. He takes a deep and shuddering breath, “Thanks, George. We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! ill admit, my motivation to write has dwindled slightly, so ive caught up to myself with chapters. ill try to keep up this every two day schedule, but please forgive me if it takes longer.
> 
> remember to subscribe/kudos/comment if u enjoy 🖤 it helps me stay motivated
> 
> watch me talk to myself on twitter if u want: @_selvish :3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George, Dream, and Sapnap go camping. (part 2)

It’s harder than George expected to just walk back to the campsite. Shortly after their conversation, they had bolted out of the water and sat on the sand together trying to squeeze the cold out of their bright red feet.

“I can’t believe you got me in that ice bath, you’re a psychopath.” George says to break the silence, Sapnap is looking down with a soft smile on his face.

“You’re a real local now, you should be thanking me!”

George rolls his eyes and starts putting his socks and shoes back on, letting the silence return as Sapnap does the same. They climb back up the shallow cliff and soon return to where Dream is lying on a picnic table, hat resting over his eyes. When Sapnap calls out to him, he grunts and sits up.

“What were you guys doing?”

“Sapnap made me wade into the water, I think my feet are permanently ice blocks now.”

Dream wheezes as he looks up, taking in how curled into himself George is, and how smug Sapnap looks. He shakes his head and stands up to stretch, closing his eyes as his shirt slips up his torso slightly. George looks away at the fire pit, which has been lit up since they had last been here.

Dusk is settling in nicely, the clouds turning an inky purple and the orange sun sinking into the sea’s horizon. It’s beautiful, watching the still barren trees be backlit by a picturesque sunset. He just kind of looks around for a while, ignoring the other two pulling food out of the car.

“What’s for dinner?” He finally asks, right as Dream rips a spatula out of his duffel bag with as little grace as possible.

“Good ole fashioned American hamburgers.” Dream replies in a horrific Southern accent that has Sapnap giggling into the cooler they have the meat in.

It’s touching to watch the two interact like this, there’s few words shared between them as they open the packages of food and set up the frying pan. George looks over them silently, smiling to himself as they start to bicker over who gets the biggest patty. Sapnap is convinced Dream made two of them bigger on purpose, but the older of the two just keeps talking over him.

“Why are you making mine so fucking small? I’m a growing boy!”

“Who said that’s yours? Maybe it’s George’s. He’s like 2 feet tall, I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“Yeah, you would worry about overwhelming him with your meat.”

Dream wheezes again and almost drops the spatula he’s using to flip the burgers, and George just rolls his eyes in exasperation. He’s secretly glad a gay joke has landed without them all getting uncomfortable. It’s so hit or miss with Dream, sometimes he can take it, other times it triggers him locking up. The black and white flip-flopping is starting to give him whiplash.

“Seriously, Dream,” George starts, “If you’re going to give me the world’s tiniest burger can I at least have two?”

“ _ It’s not even that small! _ ”

“That’s what he sai-”

“ _ Shut up, Sapnap! _ ”

They all break into a fit of laughter; Sapnap hiccuping, Dream practically choking on air, and George’s shoulders shaking. The night draws in closer, and when the food is done and they’re clearing plates, the moon is peeking up from the sea.

Next on the list is s’mores, which Sapnap insists on since George has never had one before. Dream takes time to overenthusiastically mansplain the mechanics of toasting a marshmallow, and George is getting ready to strangle him.

“You’re gonna burn it.” Dream whispers as George turns his stick clockwise over the flames.

“I’m gonna burn you if you don’t let me make my dessert in peace.” George shoots back, causing Sapnap to let out that horrific Tiktok growl he’s mastered.

As if he’d jinxed it, the marshmallow bursts into flames, and George screams before blowing it out. He looks at it with an award winning pout on his face, and Dream puts a solemn hand on his shoulder. It feels like fifty pounds of weight, and George tries not to sink into it. Sapnap has stiffened slightly, but Dream is carrying on with the joke.

“It’s still gonna taste good, but I have to say this,” He pauses and takes in a deep breath, then removes his hand. “I told you so.”

George rolls his eyes, pretending that his face heating up is from the fire. They move on swiftly, George moaning as he takes his first bite of s’more and the others smiling with pride.

The stars have come out, and when George looks up he feels small, like they’re the only people in the world. It’s not scary like it should be. Maybe he wouldn’t be so nervous all the time if it was just them, like this, forever.

Sapnap tidies the space, taking the trash and putting in a bin at the outskirts of the campsite. He complains the whole time, and Dream counters that he made the food, so it’s only fair Sapnap cleans it up. “We do this literally every time, stop being a bitch ‘cause George is here.”

“Let him be a bitch.” George says lazily in support, having laid back on the picnic table to watch the stars. The coals from the fire are a deep amber, and George is pointedly not looking at Dream, because the last time he did, his eyes looked like a forest fire and it made it hard to breathe.

Sounds of the forest drift to their campsite as they get ready for bed. There’s soft rustling and twigs cracking, but George feels like he’s wrapped in a big fluffy blanket, it’s hard to worry about man-eating moose like this. Maybe he can convince the younger boys to live here for the rest of their days; he didn’t think he’d enjoy camping this much, but the sound of lapping waves are lulling him to sleep while he’s still fully dressed and full of food.

“Goodnight, guys.” Sapnap says after he’s finished picking up. He’s climbing into the back seat of his car to lie down for the night.

“‘Night, man.” Dream says softly, smiling at his friend warmly.

George sits up to wave at him as the door clicks shut, and then it’s just the two of them. He was nervous about this, especially after how obviously stressed Dream seemed to be with sleeping next to him. However, looking at him, Dream seems to be in the same realm of calm as him. They just watch each other for a second, both expressions unguarded and pleased.

“Wanna head in?” Dream asks in a stage whisper, eyes back to being dark in the night, now that the fire has gone out.

“Can we look at the stars first?” George whispers back, like a kid avoiding bedtime.

Dream chuckles and nods, climbing up onto the picnic table next to him and looking up at the sky. He sighs deeply, and hums as he leans back. Their shoulders are almost touching, but they’re both too busy with the cosmos.

“You know, if you ever come up here during winter, you can see the Northern Lights. It’s pretty rare, though.”

“Have you seen them?”

“Once.” Dream’s voice gets even softer, like it’s a secret. “My dad brought me to the beach on Christmas Eve. It was after midnight, and he was showing me the bioluminescence in the water.”

“Bioluminescence?”

“Yeah. If you move around in the ocean when it’s dark like this, there’s these little sea critters that glow. Like plankton or something.” He pauses, takes another deep breath, “So I’m, like, totally transfixed by these little guys lighting up like stars in this freezing cold water. Then my dad tells me to look up, as if anything could be more interesting than that, and the sky was just… Incredible. Greens and blues warping around the stars and clouds. It was like we were on another planet.”

George hums in response, closing his eyes and leaning into Dream’s shoulder just slightly. He doesn’t get tense this time though, just leans into him too. Their heads knock together slightly, their faces still upturned. “I’m colourblind, so I can’t see green, but blue has always been my favourite. It’s the brightest thing I can see sometimes.”

“So you can’t see my eyes, then?” Dream asks, turning his head slightly. George turns too, and they’re so close their noses almost brush. He looks into his eyes, knows they’re green by the way they lack any colour. It’s a light grey, still transfixing.

“No, but I’m sure they’re pretty.” He says a little dumbly, and Dream smiles wickedly.

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Yeah, I mean… Yeah.”

Dream doesn’t reply, just leans away a little. For a moment George feels his heart squeeze in rejection, but the worry melts away when Dream reaches up to take his hat off. He shakes his hair out a little, it’s so flat, he looks so human. “I think you’re pretty too, George.”

It’s dark, so there’s no way for Dream to see the blush on his cheeks, but he must know it’s there… Has to. They’re still looking at each other, only a breath apart, when George does what he does best: ruins it.

“We should go to bed.”

“Okay.”

They stand, the spell broken and a slight discomfort creeping between George’s shoulders. He goes into the tent first, changes into sweats, then switches with Dream so he can do the same. The night is cold, and his teeth are chattering while he waits. After a couple minutes Dream tells him to come in, and he can’t fight the smile on his face as he takes in the other cozied up in his sleeping bag, facing away from George’s on his phone. He looks so soft.

In order to avoid looking creepy, he gets into his own sleeping bag and turns away from him as well. They don’t say goodnight. They fall asleep.

He wakes up once, just before daybreak. Dream’s nose is nestled in his hair, and one arm is around his chest. Without moving, he takes a deep breath and settles against him, letting himself have one moment where he’s allowed to be in love.

When he wakes up again, the milky dawn seeping through the tent walls, he’s alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i literally was like "waaaaa i dont want to write" and then i had the day off yesterday and got THIS BABY CRANKED OUT. hope yall like it!
> 
> remember to subscribe/kudos/comment if u enjoy, it makes me so happy 🥺
> 
> posted a sneak peek of this chap on twitter @_selvish , maybe ill do that more who knows 👀


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A message is recieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note the added tags :)

The morning is quiet. The sky above him is a cool grey blue that would make anyone shiver, and the deliciously green trees are swaying gently in the breeze. By the time George comes out of the tent, fully dressed and trying to be alert without any caffiene, Sapnap is cooking eggs over a new fire. 

Dream is laying on one of the picnic tables, hat back on his head and shielding his eyes. His posture is relaxed, however, and there's a dirty plate next to his shoulders; he must have already eaten and is dozing. 

"Good morning sleeping beauty!" Sapnap calls, using a spatula to scoop the eggs onto two pieces of cheese toast on a plate. It smells amazing, and George watches hungrily as Sapnap holds it out to him. 

"Can I wake up to this every morning?" He asks with a smile, taking the plate and sitting down to eat. Once again, he gets egg dripping down his chin, and he lets himself be nostalgic for their first meeting again. How far they've come from there, and how far they have to go. It's sometimes hard to process the past few months, days blend together yet January feels a decade away. 

"Are you proposing?" 

"Only if you promise you'll say yes." 

The mood is lightened significantly as they chat, ignoring the cloud over Dream's resting form. Sapnap thankfully doesn't comment on the way George’s gaze keeps sliding to the tall man on the other side of the table. The youngest seems less inquisitive about the weird Dream-related habits George has acquired since they spoke yesterday at the cove. 

"We're gonna head back soon, if you wanna help clean up?" 

"If I must..." George groans in jest as he finishes his food. He rubs the last bit of sleep out of his eyes and begins gathering their things strewn about the campsite. 

There's not much and it doesn't take long, especially when Sapnap helps him figure out how to collapse the tent. They work in relative silence, aside from basic instruction. All of the trash is brought to the bins, dishes are scraped, and gear is tucked into the car. 

Once everything is in and secured, George hops in the back and Sapnap gets Dream up. The blonde doesn't look at him as he gets in the car, just continues his conversation with Sapnap as they head down the dirt road. That's fine, he guesses, maybe he didnt sleep well. For George it was pretty much the most comfortable and deep sleep he'd had in years, but that's fine. 

The ride is easy, though it's a little colder than their way in. George keeps the window rolled up and watches everything pass by boredly, listening to the music playing from the radio and half-listening to what the other men are discussing. It's mostly small talk about the store, nothing too interesting. There's a fog clouding the three of them, as if something bad is coming. It's an itching feeling of dread that he can't shake. He's not sure what's causing it, though. 

Maybe they're all just sad to leave Acadia behind. It truly was an enchanting place, returning to the real world just isn't something George is feeling particularly excited about. Despite the fact that Bangor is similarly beautiful, there's a life of his back there now. An apartment to clean, work to do, strangers who ask him too many questions. 

There's something else, too, though. 

They arrive at the bodega, George had agreed he could just walk home and enjoy the rest of a day off. Once they roll up, though, George hears Dream in the front seat cut off midsentence and suck in a sharp breath. He looks up quickly at the storefront, and doesn't notice anything amiss. 

And then he sees it. A few things, actually. 

Two bullet holes have been shot through the glass of the door: one through the middle of the pane, another square in the center of the LGBT pride flag sticker. The spiderweb of broken glass is sickening to take in, the meaning behind it making George feel nauseous. 

They get out of the car to find George’s stool in the front yard, and the two rocking chairs knocked over. Sapnap is swearing under his breath as he immediatly goes to straighten them up, but Dream is silent. 

It's so calculated, the crime scene in front of them. So bold and direct, yet anonymous. 

Inside, the store is untouched and safe. There was no attempt to get in and take anything, the culprit obviously just wanting to send a message. It's certainly been received, if the pale look on Dream's face is any indication. 

Sapnap stores up the stairs to the office, saying he needs to call it in and check the safe just in case. They all know nothing will be done by the cops, though, there's no proof. Nothing was taken but the realm of calm they all soaked in last night. 

Bitterly, George wonders if the cops here will even care to stop by and look at the door. Perhaps they should just focus on getting the glass replaced. He shakes his head, and focusses. 

"Dream..." George starts to say, but realizes quickly that he doesn't think anything he could possibly think of saying would help. He turns to look at him and the other's face is completely closed up. Dream is standing by the register looking down at the wooden counter in silence. When he finally speaks, his voice is shaking. His hands are shaking too. 

"I'm not like you, George." Dream spits with his eyes stuck on the counter. George reaches for him, but the blonde flinches and takes a long step back. 

"What does that mean?" 

"Don't make me say it." 

"Say what? That I'm gay? Of course I'm gay, Dream." He pauses, figuring he may as well get it all out on the table "And I like you. In a big, serious way. I know you're scared, but... I think you like me too." 

"Don't say that shit. It's not anything simple like that." 

"I'm sorry for assuming, but listen— if you don't like me you can just tell me, and I can move on." He feels like he's cornered by a wild dog, or something even more volatile. Trying to ease the tension, he adds: "This doesn't have to be an Earth-shattering thing." 

"I... I just can't. I can't—  _ entertain _ this kind of conversation." 

Okay. Whatever. 

"What the hell does that mean? Do you like me or not?" 

"I need you to stay away from me, and I need you to keep that shit to yourself." Dream's breath is coming worryingly fast, but he stands his ground. 

The fire in George roars from his belly, and he uses all of his control to not scream at this idiot that he adores. Even right now, as everything is falling apart, he adores him. When he speaks, the words are cold and controlled: 

"If you know a  _ single goddamn thing _ about me, you know I don't give up that easily. I've let you in, that's a big fucking deal, and you know that. I'm not going to run away with my tail tucked between my legs because some— some  _ bigot _ hiding behind a pistol bought at Walmart thinks he can scare me off." 

There's a pregnant pause between the two. George's mind is spinning with conversations, hints, and everything that makes up the mental file of evidence. He thinks about customers eyeing them as they laughed behind the counter, lay a hand on each other in support, or just let themselves look for a little too long. It made him furious, how he could be penalized for wanting to have just a tiny piece of the intoxicating and frustrating puzzle that is Dream. 

He inhales and exhakes. 

He thinks about Dream's shoulders raised in defense and watching him walk away when he gets too close. Just like he is now. Everything is happening the way anyone should have predicted, the way George the  _ math fucking genius _ should have predicted, yet it still hurts. 

"Just give up." Dream hisses, looking somehow defeated yet wired as he keeps his head hung. There are tears building in his eyes and years of frustration lining his face. He looks old and tired, miles away from the fresh-faced man George met all those months ago. 

"You don't want me to do that..." The brunette steps forward to try and close the distance again. Dream's head shoots up and he meets his eyes, there's so much fear there it feels paralyzing. He's hiding it behind a desperate attempt at malice, "Oh, Dream, it's oka-" 

"It's not! None of this is fucking okay. Now get the hell out of my store." He's back on the defensive, how can this be so messy? 

George blinks and takes a deep breath, composing himself before saying his next words as soft as he can, "It's okay to want things, love. It's okay to need someone." 

"Not to need someone like you." 

It hurts. It brings more pain than a bullet hole or a thrown chair can even think of causing. The mess is too big, the filth too toxic to wipe away. So he leaves, he walks right out the door. He's spent twenty four years without stirring the pot like this, so he knows when to call it quits. 

The walk home only takes half the time it usually does, and by the time he reaches his front door he's panting like he completed the mile at a dead sprint. His apartment is a welcome sight: the cool blue couch calming him alongside the curtains flowing gently on the drafty window. 

He headed straight for the kitchen and pulled ingredients out of the fridge. The food slammed on the counter harder than necessary, and he wouldn't be surprised if he broke a few eggs in the carton. The worst part of temper tantrums were how theraputic they could be when one was isolated. 

Emptying the fridge made him feel better, but staring at the food on the counter makes him realize he's not even hungry, just mad. In defeat, he puts everything back and shuts the fridge door. He rubs a hand roughly over his face and groans as loud as he can to try and get the negative energy out. There's so much, though, just sitting in his stomach. 

He gives up on doing anything productive, just wanders up the stairs to collapse onto his bed. Without thinking about it too hard, he shoots Sapnap a text that he won't be in tomorrow. It's a dick move, he knows it, but his brain is turning over itself; it's overwhelmed by all of the feelings of the past couple of days. 

Deep in the back of his mind is Dream's voice desperately whispering what he knows lies behind his fear: I want to be loved, I want to be loved,  _ I want to be loved. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew! this chapter has been in my brain since the beginning, ive been really excited to write it. i hope its good hehe.
> 
> remember to subscribe/kudos/comment if u enjoy!
> 
> & my twitter, as always, is @_selvish !!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George goes for a run.

It’s absolutely miserable out. George didn’t really sleep, just went in and out of dozing while fully dressed in his bed. Unsurprisingly, he feels horrible when he finally sits up. It’s been about 10 hours, and he’d been listening to the rain since dawn. He needs to do something. Sulking is accomplishing nothing.

Sapnap understood him calling out, and had texted back that they were just going to keep closed an extra day; both because of getting the glass in the door replaced, but also today’s storm. The weather has decided that everyone is going to know it’s April, the rain coming down practically in sheets at a time.

His head is pounding, and his mouth is dry with a full body dehydration. A smart person would have gotten up sometime between 10pm and now, almost 8:30am, to get a drink of water or eat something, but he was _very busy_ being a little bitch. Sometimes it takes his full concentration to properly embrace feeling sorry for himself.

With a loud groan, he gets up from his bed and heads to his closet to change. He debates for a second what he wants to accomplish, and after checking the weather, decides he can go for a run when the rain lets up in an hour or so. When he first moved out here he was certain he’d keep at least a little in shape, and he’s been totally slacking. Today, however, he has enough pent up annoyance with the world that he could easily get a couple miles out.

He feels better with a plan in mind, so after changing he heads down to eat some breakfast. He goes easy, wanting to just eat his feelings, but not wanting to end up puking on the street. The sound of rain softens as he eats, and he watches out the window as the storm eases up into the late morning. By the time he’s had his food and cleaned up, it’s still drizzling, but not too bad.

Somewhere in his closet is a rain jacket, and after a little bit of digging he finds it. It’s pretty cold outside, but once he gets moving it’ll be easier. He double checks he has everything, and locks up the house.

It’s beautiful out. The world is healthy and saturated, grass looking lush and big puffy clouds rolling past at an impressive speed. George takes his hood off once he’s off the porch and lets the rain kiss his face, he’s smiling for the first time in 24 hours.

Stretching takes longer than it should, because it’s been so long since he’s done it properly. He takes his time, though, letting his muscles tense and relax in a rhythm that comforts his brain, too. The rain is cooling his skin and making the tips of his fingers numb, so he starts jogging as soon as he feels limber enough.

The run is healing, his sneakers hitting the wet pavement with a satisfying and repetitive sound. His hair is soaked against his forehead, and he might look kind of crazy, but it feels good. He goes down the main road, follows the river for a bit, then loops back. When he passes the mini mart on the way back, he sees a head of bright pink hair under an umbrella leaving a car in the lot.

“Techno!” He calls as he passes, and waves as the cashier looks up and smiles at him. They wave back and do a wolf whistle as he jogs past. He feels light and bubbly, the runner’s high sinking into his cold bones and warming him from the inside as he rounds the corner onto his street. He really needs to do this more often.

Once he reaches his porch, completely out of breath and looking a bit like a drowned cat, there’s someone sitting on the steps. It’s a tall figure bent over, his head down and similarly damp. The rain had picked up again on the way back, and George watches as droplets fall from Dream’s hair and onto his clenched fists.

Dream looks up as he approaches, and without his hat you can read everything on his face. There’s so much, George almost has to take a step back. There’s pain, exhaustion, and the ever-present fear.

“Hey.” Dream says, standing up and shaking his head, as if that will dry him off while he’s still standing in the rain. They’re both squinting, getting pelted with water, but too stuck on the other’s gaze to move. “Can I come in?”

George nods, unsure if he can speak at the moment. He walks past Dream and unlocks the door to his apartment. Inside is cozy, warm, and dry, but George can’t seem to feel that right now. In the hall closet are spare towels, so he toes off his shoes and walks there silently to get them. When he comes back to the living room, Dream is standing there and dripping pathetically onto the doormat. George sighs and hands him a towel.

“Your- uh, your street number... it’s my birthday. August 12th.” Dream offers as he dries off his hair with the towel. He points to the number lamely, and when George doesn’t respond he shuts the door.

He takes his shoes off.

George sits on the couch.

Dream does not sit on the couch.

“I assume you have something to say?” George says carefully, trying not to let himself give anything away. He’s given so much, he’s not sure if he has anything left.

Dream takes a deep breath and nods, walking into the living room and standing nervously with his hands in his pockets so he won’t fidget with them. His eyes are darting around the room, not looking at George subconsciously.

“I, uh, talked to Sapnap. Last night. He… Kinda chewed me out, like, completely understandably, for being an asshole to… Well, everyone. All the time.” He swallows roughly, settling his eyes on the lamp behind George’s head. Close enough. “I think I, uh, lost myself for a bit. A couple years, maybe. I guess to me I was just trying to protect myself, but that’s not really fair, right? Make everyone else feel like shit so I don’t have to deal with my own expectations for myself. Big time dick move. So… I came here to apologize, because you deserve better than some guy dragging you his hurricane of… Issues. When you just wanted to find a new place to call home.”

The wind is shaking the house, just enough for the wood to creak. Rain is back to falling heavily, and George turns to look outside again as he thinks.

“You are definitely an asshole.” He finally decides on, looking back at Dream. The blonde meets his eyes and it’s obvious he wants to smile, though he keeps it in. “I don’t even really care that you were a dick, though, because I understand what you’re going through is hard. I just wish you would let someone help you instead of shutting everyone out. You don’t have to fight everything off alone, you know?”

Dream nods, eager to keep the conversation going. If he thought George was gonna let him leave without explaining himself, he must be deeper in his anxieties than George thought. George scoots over on the couch and pats the cushion behind him so Dream sits next to him. They’re almost as close as they were two nights ago at the campsite, it’s crazy to think that wasn’t long ago at all. Dream holds his hand out to George and when he speaks, he has a tiny smile quirking the edge of his mouth.

“I’m Clay, nice to meet you.”

Clay. George knew Dream wasn’t his real name, but he never thought to ask what that real name was. He purses his lips to keep from grinning, and grasps Dream’s hand in a firm shake that sends little zaps of electricity up his arm and straight to his heart.

“Nice to meet you, Clay, I’m George.” He says it quietly, a little shyly, like he’s not sure how the name fits between his lips. With a little more confidence, he prompts: “Tell me about yourself?”

“How long have you got?”

“All day.”

So they talk. Dream tells him about growing up in Florida, coming up to Maine during hurricane season to keep from blowing away. He tells him how he played football in high school, how his dad taught him how to tackle in their swampy backyard until he could barely collapse back into the house with mud caking his shoes. Learning how to fish, and how boring he thought it was until he was old enough to spend the time thinking too hard about stuff that doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s nice, seeing Clay wide open, sharing stories about this beautiful life that George wants so desperately to have a chapter in.

Eventually they get to his 18th birthday, when his dad told him that he’d bought the bodega and was sending him up to spend his young adulthood learning how to run a business and make a name for himself in a town that could remember him. He shares how this was his least favourite birthday gift, and he spent the weeks preparing to move dreading all of the mistakes he knew he would make, how he made them anyway and the world didn’t end.

“And then there, uh, is the trigger, I guess, for all of this.” Dream takes another harsh swallow and laughs a little nervously. Without thinking, George puts a hand on the crook of his elbow, and leaves it there silently while the other gathers his thoughts. “I met someone. Someone who was… Not very good for me. I wasn’t good for them either, though. Their name is Techno, they actually still live here last I heard.”

George feels something click in his brain, and he grips Dream’s arm a little tighter.

“They were the first person I dated who wasn’t… Wasn’t a girl. And that was… Terrifying for me. We were both spitfires, way too confident and unstable for our own good and spending our ‘dates’ trying to one up each other instead of actually being in a relationship. It was what I needed at the time, but God, I’d never go back. I needed to experiment with someone who wouldn’t care when I fucked up, though. I was hellbent on proving to myself that I wasn’t…” He pauses, obviously struggling with the word, “Queer. Bisexual, I guess. But even though we drove each other crazy I knew I was attracted to them. I knew I was attracted to people other than cis women.”

“I met them.” George says softly, and Dream looks at him with surprise. “The first night I was in town, they work at the mini mart on the main road.”

“That makes sense.” Dream nods a couple times, processing the information. “It’s a wonder I haven’t seen them. This town is so small sometimes.”

He’s smiling, but it’s the soft and sad kind that just makes the person wearing it look small. George slowly leans over and pulls him into a hug, making sure he has plenty of time to back out. He doesn’t, just wraps his own arms around George’s smaller frame and pulls him close. It’s awkward on the couch, but they’re both too content to move. Dream pushes his nose into where George’s neck meets his shoulder and breathes in shakily.

“Is it bad that I’m still scared?” Dream whispers against his skin.

George shakes his head, giving another squeeze of his arms as he laughs gently, “You’re allowed to be scared, love, you just have to stop taking it out on me.”

“I will. I promise. I’m gonna be better.”

They pull away from each other, and George rests a hand on Dream’s cheek, feeling the other lean into it and shut his eyes.

“You don’t have to hide anymore, Dream. You get to be yourself again.”

When Dream opens his eyes again, they’re wet with tears. He chuckles and tries to duck his head, but George keeps him upright so he can hold his gaze.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

George thinks back to the first day at the bodega, when he sat with the two boys he’d just met and found the feeling of familiarity floating in the air around them.

“Nothing. I think you were going to get me no matter what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... i think this is it! im going to have a nice little epilogue to lighten the mood a little, but i believe our time in Bangor is coming to a close. thank you for sharing this with me, readers, it's been a joy to create for you
> 
> remember to subscribe/kudos/comment if u enjoy <3
> 
> my twitter is @_selvish as always!


	11. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George, Dream, and Sapnap get take out.

There are voices crawling up the stairs. No matter how loud the music in George’s headphones is, he can’t block it out.

Dream and Sapnap have been arguing over what they’re going to have for dinner for almost 20 minutes now, which is pretty impressive. George came up to finish up some last minute freelance work when he realized they wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon, however it’s hard to be productive when those two get like this.

He rips his headphones off and tosses them onto his bed, going to massage his temples as a frustrated chuckle comes out of his lips. It’s obvious he’s going to have to break the tie and help them out, they’re really hopeless without him sometimes.

Trotting down the steps the voices get louder, and as he reaches the living room he calls out, “Alright, alright! We’re getting curry. End of conversation!”

Two heads turn to him and the shouting stops, Dream is instantly smiling, but Sapnap still looks frustrated.

“We got curry last week, don’t you guys miss our usual Chinese spot?” Sapnap offers futility. Dream rolls his eyes and gives him a hearty shove, then laughs when Sapnap tries and fails to shove him back.

“I don’t, because last time you only ordered weird shit that I didn’t want to eat. You’ve lost food-decision privileges. We’ve been over this.”

“You know what I’m over, Dream? Your atti-” George groans as loud as he can to cut Sapnap off, and rubs his temples again. He likes to play up his annoyance sometimes, because he finds the other two are more eager to please when they think he’s genuinely upset with them. “Come on, George, give me another chance.”

“Dream’s right, you’ve lost privileges. Frog legs are an instant disqualification.”

“It’s not my fault you guys hate fun. Fine. Whatever.”

Sapnap is good at a lot of things, especially pouting, but George is just a little bit better and he knows it. Dream reaches for George and tucks him under his arm, pumping his fist and pressing a kiss to the top of his head in victory. George melts instantly, ignoring the gagging noises Sapnap makes to respond.

“You’re gonna go get it, too.” Dream mutters against George’s hair, causing Sapnap to make an offended scoff. They all know he’s not really upset, though, and picking up food for their regularly scheduled Boys Night is not as big of a deal as he makes it out to be.

“You guys suck. You just wanna bang while I’m gone, huh?”

“I’m offended you think I get off that quickly.” George counters, smirking as Sapnap books it towards the door with a theatrical retch. Dream is wheezing above him, and rubs a hand down his back as Sapnap gets out the door. It’s so typical of them, putting on a show for each other.

As the door shuts Dream kisses his head again, and George hums appreciatively. He looks up at the blonde and squints his eyes at him until he’s given a soft kiss to his lips. He presses against him and returns it, mouth opening slightly to give a small nip to his bottom lip. Dream hums back and his hands move to his waist. He’s so gentle, like George is a precious thing.

“Hi.” George whispers, pulling back to look into his grey-yellow eyes. They’re still transfixing, though they’re now deep into summer. The camping trip feels lightyears away, a fond yet agonizing memory he can never stop thinking about. The first time they slept close enough to touch.

“Hi.” Dream says back, looking at him with a soft smile. He looks at George a lot, now; he’s committing the other man to memory, every interaction logged safely in his brain. This one is gonna be a favourite, he can tell. “Can you sit with me?”

George nods and follows him to the couch. They fall down together haphazardly, and it takes a moment for them to settle into each other. Dream’s legs bracket his frame as he leans back, holding George to his broad chest and hugging him close. George presses kisses onto his sternum and up his neck, never having enough of him.

There’s a big hand rubbing his back, and he feels like a cat being pet. He can’t help but giggle as the hand dips at his waistband, and he smacks it away playfully.

“I meant what I said to Sapnap, you know damn well if you start anything we won’t finish it in time.”

“I know, I know.” Dream replies, still rubbing at his tailbone. “I just like touching you.”

Little things like that feel bigger than they should. The first couple months of Dream and George being… Something more, was so painstakingly slow. Every touch and kiss had to be treated like a tinder fire, add a little fuel then wait, blow some air in then wait.

It was harder when Dream was more reactionary. There was a dialogue in his head ripping apart his wants and making them something ugly. George had to be careful of every step, reminding him that the love and lust he felt was not only okay, but beautiful. He had to ease them into normality, validate every feeling, sometimes it was like he was teaching Dream how to love at all.

Not only was it hard, though, it was breathtaking. The first time he kissed him plays like a repeating record in his head: lips brushing just barely in the dark of night, a trembling hand on his jaw and a single tear salting his mouth. Both hearts were racing with an overwhelming urge to take and stop at the same time. It was a car crash, a trainwreck, a supernova blooming. Loving Dream was so chaotically tremendous.

Nails on his skin brings him back to now, and he looks up again from where he paused the kisses on Dream’s neck. He’s looking at him curiously, still smiling, but eyes full of a soft wonder.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You.”

Dream rolls his eyes and scoffs, scratching gently at the middle of his back.

“What about me?”

George smiles teasingly and leans right into his face, their noses a millimeter apart. “How you cried like a little bitch the first time we kissed.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Dream crows, half trying to push George off of him. The brunette stays, however, and laughs as Dream tries to wrestle him on the sofa. “It was one tear! It was a very important moment! Maybe you had bad breath!”

He keeps laughing, twisting under Dream’s hands until he’s flat on his back and looking up at the other with a challenging glare. Dream is hovering over him looking far too smug, so he quickly reaches up to kiss him again.

“You love it.” He says when they pull apart again. Lying on his back he soaks up the heavy gaze of Dream taking in every inch of his body. He’s wearing the red sweatshirt again, and Dream slides up the bottom of it to rub circles on his stomach.

“I do.”

They haven’t said it yet, not formally. It’s easy talking about love as something that is already there, but admitting how deep they’re in it is a leap of faith they haven’t quite gone for yet. George’s face gets more serious, and he juts his chin out slightly.

“You love it?”

Dream’s breathing picks up a little, a microscopic amount that George can’t help but hyperfocus on.

“I love you, George.”

The spark George yearned to light is a wildfire, filling every vein and pore so he can’t feel anything but warmth. He reaches up to carefully hold his face in his hands, because Dream is a precious thing.

“I love you too.”

Sapnap finds them just under an hour later, holding each other close on the couch. He opens the door quietly and sets the food on the table, pulling out his phone. The camera shutter causes Dream to open his eyes. They look at each other in silence, smiling like they have a secret.

“Welcome back.” Dream says as he sits up, George stirring beneath him. “We fell asleep for a second.”

“I noticed. It was cute.”

George tries to glare at him, but his sleepy eyes and hint of a smile is not very intimidating. It makes Sapnap laugh, though, which is always nice. He unpacks the food onto the table and pulls a chair over to sit across from them. They divide their meals up and share appetizers, it’s disgustingly domestic.

“We should go back to Acadia before the summer is over.” Dream says through a mouthful of naan. George smacks him for talking with his mouth full. “It gets pretty packed in peak season, but it should settle down by the end of this month.”

“That sounds nice.” George replies, imagining another weekend soaked in starlight, hiding in the trees where no one can see him but his two favourite people.

“As long as I don’t have to share a tent with you guys.”

They both roll their eyes at Sapnap, who seems incapable of letting them have a nice moment sometimes. The youngest is chuckling, so they know there’s no heat behind it.

“Alright that sounds good. Sapnap can sleep out in the open where the moose can eat him, then they’ll be too full to bother me and George.”

“Hey! That’s not what I meant!”

“I think that would be cool, actually.” George interjects before they can start bickering. “If we all slept outside. They do that in movies, so it’s fine, right?”

“As long as we put a tarp down I don’t see why not. You just can’t freak out if an ant crawls into your ear or something.” Dream says teasingly.

George makes a face, and Sapnap laughs harder. “Dude,  _ anyone _ would lose their shit at that and you know it. But sure, I haven’t slept out in the woods like that since I was a kid. We can teach Georgie to fish, too. Show him how to gut and cook it.”

“Please don’t use the word ‘guts’ while I’m eating.” George pleads, taking a deep breath and staring at his curry.

“The fish by the shore are pretty small, don’t worry. Just a little bit of guts.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Dream.”

They go back to planning when they want to camp again, deciding on the second weekend of September instead of late August. The temperature will be dropping, but they’re all fairly used to the cold. Plus, the added perk of not having to deal with tourists.

After eating, there isn’t much else to do, so Sapnap and Dream pack up and head home. George is alone with his thoughts, lips tingling with the kiss Dream left him with before he headed out. He tidies the living room idly, does the dishes, and doesn’t have much else to do after that.

He wanders upstairs to where his forgotten work waits for him, but just minimizes it. The desktop is crowded with icons of files that he should really clean up at some point, and right as he considers doing it, his phone buzzes. It’s a picture message from Sapnap, the image being him and Dream sleeping on the couch together.

Aside from normal pictures of the three of them together, or solo shots when they try to be artsy, there aren’t any pictures of just Dream and George. However this isn’t something he would be posting anywhere, it’s too personal. Their faces are so soft and relaxed, their limbs entangled and pressing each other as close as they physically can manage. He saves it, and just looks for a while.

It’s incredible, really, how much they’ve all changed since January. Some more than others, but it would be safe to say the three of them have become better people in the 8 months since George moved. He reaches down to a drawer in his desk to pull out the composition notebook he wrote in before he heard Dream playing guitar on the porch. Skipping through the pages, he lands on one line:

_ He feels like home. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who's even opened this fic, but a special thank you to those who read it, loved it, and talked to me about it. this is my baby, and i adore it.
> 
> if you'd ever like to come back, i have a playlist for this fic on spotify: [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2z5sZmqBWz1rLFCjt4EMHA?si=QR3YHn_xTwahY86h3LsGgA), i listened to it pretty much nonstop this past month as i wrote.
> 
> remember to kudos/comment if you enjoyed, it means a lot to me <3
> 
> i'm on twitter as well - @_selvish


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